The difficult second album.

Christmas is over and the turkey made me fat. Well, not just the turkey but the snacks and nibbles that went along with it, not to mention eating what feels like my body weight in chocolates. It really isn't my fault. There is a street in Brighton that has Hotel Chocolat, Rococo and Montezuma shops within staggering distance of each other. It would have been unfair of me to buy from one shop and not the other surely. Giant chocolate buttons almost convinced me there is a God but the kick from the wasabi and ginger truffles was a fusion food step too far I feel, (not that it stopped me eating a second just to be sure!)

All this eating and the post prandial need to sit very still for a while has given me plenty of time to answer the most asked question in the Thorn household recently. Mmmm perhaps not the most asked question as that is, "Are you all incapable of putting your dirty dishes in the dishwasher?" but that question is rhetorical of course. The other question, so far unanswered is, "So what's your next book about?" I had an idea but circumstances have put that one on hold for a bit. School dinners as a subject has now been "done" and I don't think we can get a series of institutional food books, "hospital food" doesn't evoke the same response I think.

I would like, actually need, to carry on writing. If you have any ideas please let me know. At the moment frugality and being less wasteful is top of the agenda so perhaps "101 ways with those chocolate covered turkish delights that no one likes" or "what to do with half a jar of cranberry sauce and a bag of mixed nuts" might be a goer, what do you think?

The ups and downs of a celebrity lifestyle.

I really didn't think I would get this far, we all dream and very rarely do our dreams become reality. If I asked a class of children what they wanted to be 75% of them would probably just reply "famous". If you asked them famous for what?, it would boil down to being a singer or a footballer, although I did once have a very savvy child who replied she would be a WAG and find her fame that way.

When children find out about my book they say, "So, are you famous then?" and the answer is a very emphatic, "No!" and I surprise them by saying that wasn't the reason for writing. I write because I have a physical need to, it hurts not to, and it's such good fun. I can't lie, I have thoroughly enjoyed the radio interviews, seeing my name in local papers and having to swap a day at work because a particular show could only interview me on a Tuesday. Being there when Beyonce left the building at Radio 2 was an eye opener too, perhaps if the star struck 11 yr olds I know saw the entourage and paps she had to negotiate all the time they might cherish their invisibility a little more.

Giving a talk and sharing some food from my recipes at my local Waterstones was surreal(we sold out of books on the night!) and although I knew many people there it was yet another life experience ticked off.

The book (and me to some extent) got a good write up in The Independent although if you read it and thought I had moved without telling you I still live in Banstead they just got that fact wrong. It makes interesting reading. I have no wish to make any gains from such an unpleasant situation as the credit crunch but if it reminds us all of food we miss and want to recreate the all well and good.
http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/food-and-drink/features/comfort-cuisine-seek-solace-in-some-stodgy-childhood-favourites-1036675.html

Thanks for the success of this book go to Tom Bromley the publisher of Portico books who recognised a good idea and kept telling me I was a writer and people would like the book.

I believe him now - I think. Lets hope the future gets better for us all and my next book can be about something frivolous and very expensive.

Gourmet meals for the celebrity lapdog anyone?

The moment I've been waiting for.

Wednesday, publication day, came and went. I felt a little glow of pride and had a glass of wine but as I had to teach the following day no real celebrations. Friends have been telling me when they have spotted the book and a certain bookstore chain must be wondering why random members of the public keep photographing displays up and down the country. I could give a masterclass on the 1001 ways to stack a book on an table or "dump bin" (which is apparently a good place to be!) and illustrate it with a slide show.

I feel the same way as I did after having the children although at least I can sit on a hard chair without whincing (one for the ladies, men if you need to ask for an explanation you may regret it.) You focus on the birth itself and then suddenly realise that there is a whole new life that you are responsible for, forever.

School Dinners is now out there making it's way in the world. Reading a review is a bit like reading a school report, what's not said is as important as what is.

Try this one for size.

http://www.blackpoolgazette.co.uk/blackpoolnews/No-39yuk39-on-the-menu.4605226.jp

What next, well it's a case of wait and see. Just as with my other bundles of joy I hope School Dinners does it's best, works hard and becomes a lawyer or a doctor and can keep me in the manner to which I should like to become accustomed.

Please be honest!

In the next few days or weeks if I happen to meet you in the street the chances are fairly high that I will show you my book. If you ask to see it first well done but even if you don't I am sure I will find a way to turn the conversation round to my book. I have a copy in my handbag all the time. Ostensibly this is just in case I have to show it to booksellers or people in the business. In reality I have never met a bookseller or publisher just by chance wandering the streets of sunny Surrey or deepest south London, I am carrying my book around because I am so proud of it.
It's funny but the pride I feel is for the book as an object not in myself for having written the words. Writing the words was for me just putting what I would have said out loud down on paper. I am proud of the way it looks, feels and sad as this sounds, smells. I love the colours, the illustrations and I really want to meet the boy on the cover. The way he's attacking that plate of food we would get on famously I feel.
Just because I really love my book please be honest about it. I want to continue writing and your constructive criticism will help me. To paraphrase that rather hackneyed saying, if you have an point to make tell me. if you love the book tell others.

Sunshine and butterflies

For the first time this summer I have been able to really enjoy my garden. As a student of ecology in the past butterflies and moths have always fascinated me. They are easy to tell apart by the way, butterfiles have straight antennae and moths have antennae that look like feathers, but please don't squash then just to get a close up view it really is not that important.

So out comes the sun and hopefully out come the butterflies. Not to worry if they don't as my most favourite butterfly of all comes courtesy of lambs. As I type the faintest whiff of garlic and lemon still linger on my fingers. My butterflied leg of lamb marinades itself gently in the fridge waiting to offer itself up on the altar of sun worship that is the gas barbecue. I butterfly the lamb legs myself for no other reason than I enjoy wielding a very sharp knife and I get a real sense of achievement if I get the bone out without making the kitchen resemble Hannibal Lecter's house. If you don't like the idea of wrestling raw meat, are fond of your fingers or would rather just pay someone else to do the job then fine.

Marinade your lamb for at least two hours in lemon juice, yogurt, garlic and harissa paste if you like things spicy. Heat your barbie up as high as it will go, whack on the lamb, turn the barbecue down a bit and cook for 25 minutes turning over to prevent the meat catching too much. The outside should be seared but not burnt to a cinder and the inside should be pink. Rest for at least 10 minutes and serve with cous cous, tomato and mint salad, flat breads and a large glass of wine. What a beautiful butterfly!

In the brownies

Sprites, Pixies, Leprechauns or Gnomes couldn't have been happier than me this week. For reasons I can't really divulge at the moment I've spent my free time devising the ultimate chocolate brownie recipe.

Despite originating in America, these beauties are neither brash nor unsophisticated. There is a complexity to them that belies the belief of some that they are purely and simply a poorly cooked cake. That squidgy texture is what makes these treats so special. Licking the bowl has always been the cooks perk and with a brownie we all get to indulge.

My biggest problem has been what to include and what to leave out. The understated British me wants to leave the mixture simple, just a squidgy chocolate cake. The slightly trans - atlantic me wants to add every nut and chocolate chunk I have in the cupboard, and believe me I have substantial quantities of both. Deciding that I really ought to share these with the rest of my family I opted for the no nuts versions. (Please insert your own joke here.) Well I actually devised a nut and chocolate recipe but then swapped the nuts for differing hues of chocolate chunk. Chunks and not chips of chocolate are vital both in the taste and the look of these brownies they are American after all and bigger is always better where chocolate is concerned. They also really help give the eater a decent chocolate hit.

Eaten warm with a scoop of decent vanilla ice cream Brownies taste like heaven. When I eat these I can almost forgive America for inventing the Pop Tart. Mind you ..... where is that toaster.

Back to where it all began.

Being a creatures of habit, and also being addicted to thick treacly coffee where the ratio of caffeine to liquid is always biased in favour of the caffeine, we have just got back from a fantastic holiday on a small island in the Bay of Naples. For me it is the place that first inspired me to first write about food with any real intent. The importance of food was brought home to me everywhere we went, be it a small roadside shop selling fresh fruits and vegetables, a caffe al banco just liquid enough to stain the bottom of a cup or eating proper lemon ice cream during the evening passegiata. Food added value and dimension to the lives being lived and wasn't just a fuel or a filler. This was the first piece I wrote and when I was in this very restaurant last week I had this very simple dish and it was still magnificent but then the same people made it with the same love and care that they had taken nearly twenty years previously.

Bruschette con pomodoro

Passion and respect, two things we as individuals all crave, but this object of desire was the humble tomato. Worship of the 'love apple' in this restaurant in Ischia in the Bay of Naples is simple and pure. Tomatoes are plucked fresh from the vine, unsullied by any refrigeration and still with a bloom on their cheeks. They are chopped deftly and anointed with the purest olive oil.
Slices of locally made bread are caressed with garlic and laid to char briefly on the grill. Bread and tomatoes are brought together on the plain white plate and seasoned with sea salt. Basil is freshly torn and strewn on the tomato.
The first bite is heaven. Tangy yet sweet, crunchy yet soft, gritty with sea salt, but slick with olive oil… simplicity makes this dish magnificent. If I ever get to choose my last supper it would be this.

How to ...

Read the above and follow the instructions, use as many tomatoes as you have, decent olive oil and remember food in Italy is for sharing, falling out over, discussing, savouring and enjoying with wine and water so find someone to help you do all of the above.